To the ones who read between the spaces of a text,
Who build a whole tomorrow from a passing, casual glance,
Who always keep a quiet prayer for whatever happens next,
And give the coldest, hardest worlds a second, glowing chance.
Who build a whole tomorrow from a passing, casual glance,
Who always keep a quiet prayer for whatever happens next,
And give the coldest, hardest worlds a second, glowing chance.
You fall in love with strangers on a crowded morning train,
You write a thousand tragic scripts that never will come true.
You look for secret meanings in the timing of the rain,
And hold a space for someone who is looking back for you.
You write a thousand tragic scripts that never will come true.
You look for secret meanings in the timing of the rain,
And hold a space for someone who is looking back for you.
It is a heavy thing to carry, this untamed, burning spark,
To always love too deeply and to always leave the door
A little bit unlatched against the encroaching of the dark,
To give away your pieces and then offer up some more.
To always love too deeply and to always leave the door
A little bit unlatched against the encroaching of the dark,
To give away your pieces and then offer up some more.
So here is to the dreamers who refuse to let it die,
Who feel the bruises open but still reach out for the flame.
May someone finally look at you and never have to try
To learn the quiet poetry attached to your own name.
Who feel the bruises open but still reach out for the flame.
May someone finally look at you and never have to try
To learn the quiet poetry attached to your own name.
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